


Arya x Aegon week fics

by madaboutasoiaf



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Arya x Aegon Week, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 14:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3491219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madaboutasoiaf/pseuds/madaboutasoiaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fics written for Arya x Aegon week on tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Comfort

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Arya wasn’t stupid, she knew that Winterfell would not be the place it once was, not with her father and mother and Robb gone. She did not expect a very joyful return but she did not expect this either, to have Aegon shut away and to be told she must not see him.

“It is for the best little sister,” Jon told her.

Arya did not want to argue with him, not after all their time apart. She had missed him terribly and it was so good to see him even if he did not seem the same, so much older than he should be and smiling so rarely. Arya supposed she should expect it, she had changed too.

“When might I see him?”

Jon’s long face was guarded but Arya saw a flicker of doubt.

“When he gets better,” Jon replied in an even tone.

Arya hesitated a moment before wrapping her arms around Jon and burying her face in his chest. It felt good to be held. It felt good to have Jon’s hand touch her hair just like before but it did not feel good enough. She wished she hadn’t teased Aegon so much now. He did not like the cold in the North. He complained about it until she teased him and then he just wore extra furs and looked less happy than usual. She did not know he might get sick. She wasn’t scared. She told herself she wasn’t scared, wolves did not get scared.

Jon knew lots of things but he did not know Aegon. Aegon would get better, he had to. Arya took herself out to the godswood and prayed to the old gods, Nymeria keeping close to her and whining. Arya tried to call her closer still but the direwolf refused and she gave up, staring at the carved face in the heart tree until the snow began to fall again.

*

Aegon didn’t  _sound_ very, very sick at first. She knew she wasn’t meant to be near his chambers but she had visited the glass gardens and she thought the flowers might make him smile. The door was open a little and Aegon sounded grumpy. She heard him cough and it was a bad cough. The rattle in his chest made her own breath catch and Arya couldn’t stay away, even if it meant Jon might be unhappy.

Haldon frowned at her when he saw her in the doorway.

“I already had to send your brother away. You should not be here my lady.”

Aegon began to speak and fell into coughing again. Arya darted forward to crouch in front of him. He sat in a chair, a cup by his arm. His silvery gold hair looked lank and his usually bright eyes were dull when the coughing subsided and he opened them to look at her.

“Leave her be,” he said in a commanding voice. “I don’t want the others in here. I just want Arya.”

Haldon pressed his lips into a disapproving line.

“What will you do if Lady Arya becomes ill too?”

“I won’t,” Arya said quickly.

She set the flowers down in Aegon’s lap, blooms she had chosen to remind him of the South and Aegon picked one up and turned it between his fingers. Arya stood and pushed his hair back from his face.

“I asked for you,” he complained, blinking and looking uncertain. “I did not think you were going to come.”

Arya bit her lip, the old habit returning with her worry.

“I’m here now.”

She heard the hiss of Haldon exhaling through clenched teeth. When she turned to look at him his shoulders had dropped in resignation.

“Send for me if his cough or fever gets worse.”

Arya nodded and waited for Haldon’s footsteps to recede. She heard the scuff of a boot at the doorway and recognised Duck’s footfall. The knight did not enter and she knew he must be guarding as he so often did. Aegon’s eyelids began to flutter and droop.

“I’m cold Arya,” he whispered. “I do not know how you live here.”

Arya did not tell him it was not cold this time. All thoughts of teasing were gone as she felt him shiver under her touch. Instead she retrieved the furs, draping a cloak over his lap. He held the flowers aloft before setting them down again.

“I’ll pick some more for you tomorrow,” she said as she tucked another cloak around his shoulders. “I’ll pick some each day until you get better.”

Aegon coughed again, longer this time and clumsily reached for the cup. Arya had to help him when he almost knocked it over and she held it to his lips as he drank.

“I won’t die Arya.”

He sounded so certain and as she took the cup from him he tried to pull her into his lap. Arya evaded his grasp easily, a little hopeful that he felt well enough to be making advances until he began to cough again and gave up the attempt. She watched him, trying to bury her concern and when he stopped she moved the flowers to the side table and perched in his lap without prompting. His embrace lacked its usual strength.

“I forget sometimes that you insist on challenging me.”

He sounded too tired for it to be much of a jape.

“I would have crushed the flowers,” she told him.

“That matters little,” he replied quickly with a brief smile. “You said you’d get me more.”

She couldn’t be annoyed with him, not while he let her curl into him. He wasn’t wrong. His body lacked its usual warmth. His embrace still offered her reassurance and Arya wondered briefly who was comforting who. She thought she hid her worry but she knew she must have failed. Either that or she taught him to see lies rather too well.

“You feel warm,” he murmured into her hair. “Will you stay?”

“For a little while,” she said. “I’ll stay a little while.”

It did not take long before Aegon stopped shivering. He did not cough again and his shallow breathing became more even. His grip on her relaxed and Arya knew before she moved to look into his face that he slept. He seemed so young in sleep, young and pale and smaller somehow. She moved away carefully, picking up the flowers and setting them in his lap once more.

“You rest,” she whispered even though it was stupid and he wouldn’t hear her. “I will be back later.”

*

Jon frowned and Arya knew he worried but he did not try to stop her.  _He knows me better than that, even after all these years._  He even helped her a little and Arya loved him even better for it. Jon visited with her when she took the new flowers in to Aegon, his expression solemn as he watched them from across the room.

“I owe you thanks for your hospitality my lord,” Aegon offered.

Arya could hear the tension in Jon’s voice.

“My brother would do the same if he were here.”

Aegon glanced at her with a questioning look but Arya did not give him the answer. They did not know what to say of Bran so it was best not to say anything until he returned. Instead she let him lean on her as he rose to move from his bed to the chair. He flushed as he stumbled a little.

“The servants could help with these things.”

“ _Valar dohaeris_ ,” Arya said quickly.

It settled the matter though Arya repressed a sigh when he switched to speaking high valyrian before Jon left the chambers.

“You are good to take care of me.”

Arya knew why he did it. Aegon did not like to appear vulnerable in front of others. Even now as he uttered the words in a foreign tongue he looked tense, as though she might reveal his secret. Arya had become too good at keeping secrets for that.

“Don’t be stupid,” she scolded Aegon as she helped him settle on the chair.

Aegon took her hand in his and Arya knew he wasn’t finished. She darted a look at Jon.

“I will see you at dinner Arya,” Jon said with a little sigh.

He was looking at their joined hands but Arya did not pull away. She did not want to pull away. Jon gave her a little smile, a reluctant smile but a smile still and she relaxed, smiling back at him. When he was gone turned back to Aegon.

“Use the common tongue while you are here.”

Aegon frowned.

“You never used to mind me speaking in my mother tongue. I seem to recall you liking it.”

“That depended on what you said,” she retorted.  “There will be other times,” she began to say but then Aegon was coughing again and she stopped.

“Are you wroth with me,” he asked when he caught his breath. “I sometimes cannot tell.”

Arya put a smile on her face and thrust his cup at him to drink, just as Haldon told her she must.

“If I was wroth with you I would make certain you knew it.”

She fetched the book sitting open nearby and began to read to him.

*

On the fifth day he seemed worse and Arya was frightened even though she tried to say she wasn’t. She knew too much of death and they tried to teach her it was a gift at the House of Black and White but it wasn’t, not for those left behind who cared. She tried to say away then, tried to harden herself but it didn’t work. When he asked for her she did not refuse but she prayed.

After nine days she knew the gods answered her and Aegon was going to get better. He was on his feet when she entered his chambers and he smiled when he saw her. Some of his colour had returned even if he did look thinner.

“Your hands are empty,” he said in a teasing tone.

“You’ve seen all the different kinds now,” she explained. “I didn’t know which to choose.”

He stood still without speaking and for a moment she thought he really wanted her to go out and pick the flowers anyway but he held out his hands to her instead. Arya darted forward and wrapped her arms around him. His embrace was still weak but stronger than it was.

“I’m not going to leave Arya.”

She kept her face pressed into his chest,

“You’re only visiting.”

He laughed and it made him cough a little.

“You know that isn’t what I meant.”

He stroked her hair and Arya squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tear that wanted to fall.

“ _Valar  Morghulis_.”

“Yes,” he said gently. “But not yet.”

Arya led him to his bed and climbed into it beside him.  He looked tired still when she looked into his face but he felt like he did before, warm but not the warmth of fever. His caresses made her feel wanted and safe, even if the safety wasn’t real and Arya was so relieved that just this once she let herself be something less than strong.

“You better not be lying,” she said with a sniffle and a little shiver.

“You better not be getting sick,” Aegon replied. “Your brother will be very wroth.”

Arya had to smile. Aegon always found ways to make her smile even when she did not want to.

“I’m not and he won’t.”

Aegon reached across her and Arya wondered what he was doing. She laughed when he began to tuck furs around her.

“I won’t hear you ever tease me about the cold again,” he said with a grin.

“I won’t,” she vowed.


	2. Expectations

Aegon heard of the Northern princess long before he saw her. Lord Connington glowered at the very mention of it.

“The North has no claim to a crown your grace,” his Hand announced.

Aegon agreed but the very idea of the princess who was not really a princess made him curious. He asked about her while they tried to keep her from him. Lord Connington in particular appeared increasingly troubled after having seen her.

“She is just one girl my lord,” Aegon scoffed. “What trouble will one noble girl bring?”

Jon Connington looked at him then, a look which made him feel like a boy again. He did not speak for a long time and Aegon sensed that whatever he held back, it was not pleasant.

“We must send her on her way your grace,” he finally said.

Aegon did not want to send her on her way. The secrecy and lack of an explanation as to why she must leave only made him more determined.

“She shall be our guest my lord,” he declared.

Lord Connington was deeply unhappy. Aegon refused to hear his protests.

“I will not give her to Stannis,” he said abruptly. “He will use her to gather support and while I do not think him a threat I am not about to offer him a gift.”

The matter was settled. Aegon called for wine and stood at the balcony to look over the city. The crown on his head was new and with it came new duties. Deciding what to do with a girl long thought to be dead was one of them.

*

Aegon cared little for cyvasse. He grew tired of it but every so often he gave into a challenge. His small council tested him in his recent meetings and he still had not met the princess. The girl seemed determined to avoid his notice, unlike the other noble ladies ever present in his company.

“It would benefit you to work on strategy Aegon,” Haldon told him. “You rely on the same formation too often and it will not serve.”

Aegon frowned at him.

“I win plenty of games.”

Haldon smiled thinly.

“Do you really?” His expression suggested disbelief and Aegon tried to bury his annoyance. “You will not win against a true opponent.”

“I could if I wanted.”

Haldon merely seemed amused. Aegon did not like it. He glanced about the small hall. His guards were silent statues, barely moving and pretending not to listen. Aside from them two squires were in deep conversation at one of the benches, a group of sellswords diced at another and Lords Varner, Ashford and Ambrose seemed occupied at yet another with a map. The serving girls weaved their way through the hall rather aimlessly. More than an hour remained until dinner and all would change then.

The door opened, allowing entry to another serving girl. Aegon caught a glimpse behind her of one of the ladies passing the doorway. She paused and offered him a delicate wave. He put a smile on his face and inclined his head to acknowledge her before the door closed. Before he looked away he thought the serving girl looked at him oddly, her eyes narrowing but he dismissed it when she lowered her head and crossed the hall.

The game proceeded and Aegon grew bored. Haldon insisted on lecturing him and he resisted the urge to tell the halfmaester he was no longer a boy, that he had not been his charge for some time. Instead he glanced across the hall to see the serving girl from earlier speaking with the lords.  They all looked over at him and Aegon looked down at the board to disguise his frown.

“My aunt has not yet moved herself from Slaver’s Bay,” he observed in high valyrian, knowing those nearby would not understand.

Haldon did not spare those watching a glance.

“That is the message I received.”

Aegon sighed. He did not care if he ruled alone but others would. They branded him a pretender. Varys said Aegon needed his aunt, that he needed her dragons. Aegon tired of hearing it. He decided to distract himself with the mystery of Arya Stark. The way Lord Connington’s face darkened at her name Aegon supposed she must be beautiful and charming, a lady with enough grace to make his Hand fearful.

_He always thinks I will weaken._

Aegon had not done anything foolish yet and the mistrust grated. He did not want to be treated like an impetuous child. He wanted answers.

“What can you tell me of the princess? I still have not met her.”

He realised his error too late. Haldon’s tone was sharp.

“House Stark earned their exile your grace. The girl is at best a lady if you choose to call her so. ”

The halfmaester went silent and Aegon suddenly realised the conversation between the lords and the girl had stalled. A laugh boomed from the group of sellswords and the girl set a tankard down with a loud thump. Lord Ashford cursed and stood, his doublet stained with ale. Aegon forgot the sting of Haldon’s correction and lost interest in the game, even as the halfmaester took out his dragon with a trebuchet leaving his king undefended.

“Think on what I said of strategy your grace,” Haldon said as he packed up the pieces.

Aegon kept his eye on the girl as she raised her chin in a haughty manner. It only lasted a moment before she lowered her head and offered a meek apology.

“It is only a game,” Aegon said dismissively as he stood.

Haldon shook his head and Aegon saw his gaze go to the girl, his expression darkening immediately.

“There are some games we cannot afford to lose.”

*

Arya kept her eyes lowered. They took her for a servant so she played the part. It wasn’t hard and it let her watch the pretender without the courtesies he put on around the noble ladies. He smiled for them but that did not tell her who he was. Arya wanted to know this man, what he planned for the realm before she took her leave.

_He thinks to keep me here._

She wasn’t a girl anymore. Arya was six and ten and nobody could make her stay anywhere. Not anymore, not after Braavos. She stayed because she chose to stay… for now. She did not care if they did not call her princess, she did not care about titles, none of it mattered but she did not like them speaking of her father as a traitor.

_House Stark did not earn any exile._

She made her apologies to Lord Ashford for the spill and turned to leave, still stinging from what she heard even though she made certain not to reveal it on her face. The moment she glanced at the two men who had been absorbed in their game she knew she was caught. The would-be king eyed her with mild curiosity, his companion however had recognised her.

_The maester is smarter than the others._

Arya turned on her heel, ignoring the protest from the man with the empty cup who expected her to serve. She had learned some and she did not need to stay. Aegon did not know her but she had seen enough to begin to know him, heard enough to know he was proud, boastful and did not like to be told what to do. She moved quickly, darting on light feet to lose herself amongst the true servants.

“Lady Arya.”

She took two more steps, thinking she might fool them but footsteps began to follow far too quickly and a man near the door moved to bar her way. Arya suppressed a grin at his attempt but she knew that even if she got away it would draw too much attention. Instead she stopped, gave a deep sigh and turned to greet her pursuers with the best curtsey she could muster.

The halfmaester grimaced. Aegon took a step backwards.

“Why are you pretending to be a servant my lady?”

Arya rose, smoothed her skirts and looked him in the eye.

“I am not pretending to be anything your grace. They asked me to serve so I served.”

He did not seem to know what to make of that. The halfmaester pursed his lips.

“There are servants for these things my lady.”

Arya resisted the temptation to throw his words back at him about her not being a lady. Instead she uttered the phrase she had said countless times.

“ _Valar dohaeris_.”

Aegon flushed and Arya knew then that he was not stupid.

“You speak high valyrian?”

Arya cocked her head, deciding what to tell.

“I lived in Essos. The tongue is spoken there.”

The master looked concerned but Aegon’s lips curled into a smile. He eyed her in a way Arya had become used to, the way men looked at women and she repressed a scowl. He must have sensed something because his smile faded.

“You are not dressed for your station.”

“An exile does not wear silk your grace,” Arya said sweetly.

He coloured again, this time looking as though she slapped him and Arya felt bad. She did not mean it. She didn’t even know why she said it. He had not even been the one to speak of her family. She lowered her eyes, wondering if she should apologise.

“I will not keep you my lady,” he said stiffly. “You have my leave.”

Arya raised her eyes. He seemed confused. He did not look away but now she saw nothing improper in his gaze. She hesitated only a moment.

“As you wish your grace.”

*

Aegon thought he knew why Lord Connington did not like Arya Stark. She was beautiful but that wasn’t it. She did not care for authority. His crown did not intimidate her and she did not try to please him. When the sting wore off he imagined the conversation between his Hand and the girl and it almost made him smile.

“You sent her silk,” Lord Connington said in a disapproving voice.

“I did my lord.”

“Why?”

Aegon did not truly know why. He did not know what to tell Lord Connington.

“She dresses as befits a servant,” he finally said. “I thought it improper.”

The answer seemed to serve for the moment but it did not stop his Hand from showing increased concern. Lord Connington kept close, even more suspicious than he usually was. Aegon tired of it.

“I am not going to bed her,” he complained to Duck.

Duck grinned. “Not fair enough for you lad?”

Aegon did not know how to answer. Duck did not see her otherwise he would likely still be speaking of her. He remembered the wilfulness in her eyes even as she curtsied before him. Something told him that she might not want to, even if he were to try. He did not intend to but it bothered him that she did not seem to like him.

_I will keep my distance._

Lady Arya made that difficult. She appeared suddenly after he finished in his next meeting, this time dressed in dark wool. She did not seem as grateful for the silk as he expected.

“Why do you send me a gift your grace?”

“You are no longer an exile,” he said carefully. “You must dress accordingly.” He saw her eyes narrow at the must and felt unsettled all over again.

“I remain an exile until I return home your grace.”

The hardness left to be replaced with something vulnerable. It only lasted so very briefly that he almost thought he imagined it.

“Well accept it anyway,” he said quickly. “You do not want to be mistaken for a serving girl too often.”

She smiled, a mischievous smile at odds with what followed.

“There are worse things to be mistaken for.”

Aegon half laughed, half snorted. He looked away, not sure if she meant what he thought she meant and the smile was gone when he looked back.

“Wear the silk if you wish my lady.”

Surprise flickered over her features, only briefly.

“Mayhaps I will.”

*

Arya did wear the silk. He did not seem to want anything from her in return so she wore it. Lord Connington glowered when he saw her in it but Aegon smiled. He had a nice smile. It was not like Joffrey’s. There was no cruelty in it.

“Do you want wine my lady?”

Arya accepted the cup. Lord Conningon rose and crossed the hall and Arya watched him as she sipped. He looked at her again and she saw the word Stark on his lips as he spoke to those at the door. When he left the guards seemed uncomfortable and they kept looking at her. Arya ignored the looks.

“You must tired of telling the story,” she said softly with lowered lashes, “but how did you survive the Sack?”

Aegon did not look pleased but he told her anyway. Arya already knew the details but she wanted to hear it from him. She studied him, looking for lies and found none. When he spoke of the baby swapped for wine she lost her restraint.

“They knew the baby was going to be killed. Doesn’t that bother you?”

Aegon flushed. He looked shamed.

“I had no part in it,” he said defensively.

“What about Rhaenys,” she pressed. “Why would Princess Elia save her son and not her daughter?”

Aegon looked taken aback. Arya did not get to hear his answer.

“Prince Aegon was the heir to the throne,” an angry voice said. “Mind your tongue my lady.”

Arya did not know the knight. She looked at his surcoat and recognised the sigil as belonging to one of the lesser houses in the Reach, no doubt somebody ambitious wanting to get close to the king. Arya struggled to hold her tongue, took a breath and looked into her cup of wine.

“I did not mean to cause offense.”

Aegon still looked as though he had been struck but he nodded. Arya sipped her wine, stood and asked to be excused, still smarting from the story.

_My mother would have tried to save both her children._

*

Aegon saw Arya approaching in the garden. He eyed her warily, not sure if he wanted to see her again or not. Lord Connington was wroth over her questions. Aegon did not know whether to be wroth. He just knew that nobody had asked the last one before, nobody seemed to care or disapprove as she did.

“Do you not want to see me your grace?”

The suggestion prompted him to invite her to sit.

“I am not hiding from you my lady.”

She smiled, that same clever smile and he knew to expect wit this time.

“I would think you very stupid if you chose here to hide.”

“I’m not stupid,” he said defensively.

She put her hand on his arm.

“I did not say you were.”

Her touch felt warm, even through his sleeve and Aegon did not shake her off.

“I have been told not to see you.”

She leaned a little closer, looking into his face. Her hair was very short, her face long and her eyes intelligent. He began to notice it before but felt it more keenly now.

“Do you do everything you are told?”

He shook his head, looking at her lips. She bit the bottom one and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, letting go of him to do so.

“You do not speak to me as others do.”

Arya did not seem offended. Instead she raised her chin and looked proud.

“My father taught me to speak truth.” She put her hand on his arm again. “What kind of king do you mean to be?”

Aegon did not understand the question, not truly. He wondered what other lessons Eddard Stark gave his daughter. He knew the things his grandfather had done. Lord Connington did not shield him and Aegon did not intend to be compared to Aerys.

“I want to restore the kingdom that my father was meant to rule.”

Arya shook her head.

“Will you listen, even if you would rather not hear?”

It sounded a little like something Varys might say.

“I do listen.”

Arya did not like that answer. She let go of him again and he saw she meant to leave.

“You listen when it pleases you. They will make sure you hear what you want”

Aegon caught her hand in his. He wanted to be angry at her but if he got angry she would be right.

“You do not know me,” he said defensively. “I will not be a bad king.”

She looked down at their joined hands.

“I know how it works better than you do. I have been here before. Nobody means to be a bad king but people suffer all the same. You think you have no part in it but it is done in your name.”

Her eyes were wise and sad and Aegon wanted to tell her that kingship was his duty, that they trained him for this and he would not fail. He did not grow up in a castle and visit with lords and he knew not to trust blindly.

_She has been hurt by kings. She has been hurt by the usurpers._

“I mean to do things differently my lady.”

Arya squeezed his hand.

“I can see you believe that your grace. Mayhaps you will do what is right.”

Aegon smiled at the concession and let her go. After she left his sight he brooded over what she said. Everybody expected something from him. Arya Stark seemed to expect the most and it weighed on him.

*

Arya did not need to stay any longer. She knew enough of Aegon now. People doubted his identity. Arya wasn’t sure it mattered. King Robert ruled with the support of the realm and he was not a good king. Arya would never speak against him, he was her father’s friend but he wasn’t a good king. She did not know about Stannis but she wanted the war to end.

Aegon believed he was Aegon Targaryen and he wanted to make things better. Arya could see he intended it. He spoke with people, forgave old grudges as long as they meant no harm now and he listened. He might look bored at times or vexed but he listened. He also listened to her, listened and japed and made her laugh in a way she never expected he might and Arya liked him for it even if she did not mean to.

She packed the things she needed but before she could make her escape there was a knock at the door of her chambers. She heard Aegon’s voice on the other side.

_I did not want to see him before I leave._

For a moment Arya thought about ignoring it. Their friendship had grown and she did not want to say goodbye. She opened the door.

“I cannot beat you at cyvasse now Aegon.”

He grinned. “You cheat but that is not why I am here.” He extended parchment to her, parchment with the Stark seal. “You will want to see this.”

Arya ripped it open and recognised Jon’s hand, even after all the years apart. Tears sprang to her eyes unbidden.

“Jon is at Winterfell. He wants me to go home.”

“You will,” Aegon said gently.

Arya knew what he meant by it. He did not mean now. He meant once they finished their war but his smile and the promise in his voice still meant something.

“I wish the war was over,” she whispered.

“Do not fret,” Aegon assured her. “It is only a matter of time.”

 _I am not fretting_ , she thought.  _I just don’t want you to think I’m choosing a side_.

He followed her into her chambers when she crossed to the side table to set the parchment down next to a jug of wine. She poured for both of them and handed him a cup. Aegon looked at her oddly. He took it but did not drink. Arya downed her own quickly.

“You have been kind,” she blurted.

Aegon seemed amused by that.

“Did you expect something different?”

She set the cup down, knowing they only had minutes left. The guards would look in any time now. Arya took his cup from him and studied his expression. He frowned.

“You are beginning to make me worried.”

She stepped forward and took his hands in hers.

“I have known little kindness in this place.”

Aegon looked down at their hands. “I do not know why Lord Connington behaves so towards you.” He looked up and the expression he gave her reminded Arya of their first meeting. This time it did not offend her to have him stare at her. “He must think little of me at times.”

“He doesn’t think poorly of you. That is not the reason.”

Arya knew the reason. She looked like a Stark. Lord Connington thought she looked like her aunt. He was wrong, wrong about everything. Arya was going to leave and everything would be different and she did not do anything to distract Aegon, not anything except speak to him.

In a heartbeat Aegon made a liar out of her. He held her, his arms circling her waist and Arya told herself it was only a hug. She hugged her brothers. There was no harm in a hug though this was a long one. It felt good to be hugged. It felt nice to have strong arms around her and somebody who cared.

“I will make certain you only receive kindness Arya.”

He meant it, she could hear he meant it and it was not something in his power to promise. Arya wanted to tell him he was stupid but instead she rose on her toes and kissed his cheek because him wanting people to be kind meant something. Her lips brushed the corner of his mouth and when he tilted his head to kiss her she initiated it herself because  _this_ kiss she wanted.

_It will only be once, just once before I leave._

His lips were warm and soft and gentle and when they parted he smiled and Arya blinked because she made things so much harder and it wasn’t fair.

*

Lord Connington was wroth at his lateness. Aegon did not care. He never knew what to expect from Arya and that day had been no different. She hid so much from him that he thought she cared but now he knew. Her affection told him so.

Hours passed and he thought he might invite her to supper. A knock at her door yielded no answer. It opened with a push and her odd behaviour began to make sense. She took little with her, none of the silk he gave her and left him a piece of parchment pleading not to go after her.

_You will not find me until I am home._

She left him, left him with memories of her smile, of her expectations that he could make a difference and that final goodbye. He could still taste the wine on her tongue, so much sweeter than anything before and sweeter still from the challenge to earn it from her.

He vowed to see her again.


	3. Enthusiastic

Arya smiled at him as she led him up the driveway to her parent’s house. She almost bounced on light feet. He knew she was excited to see her family again but he could not quite share her excitement.

“My mother must like you,” she said in a rapid voice. “She always wanted to match me with somebody like you.”

Aegon knew she meant his family’s standing and anywhere else he might have agreed. He frowned and tried not to appear too reluctant. Arya did not care about his name. He liked that about her. They did not even know each other’s names when they first met, her studying abroad and him working to gain an appreciation for what he was born into as his godfather put it.

_Names did not matter there._

He never thought he would miss it so much.

“I hope you are right.”

Arya shot him a look. The sparkle in her dark eyes faded and she raised her free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“It won’t matter,” she said determinedly. “Father won’t let it matter.”

All Aegon could do was hope as he followed her to the door of the huge old house, a mansion, almost a castle. There was bad blood between the Starks and Targaryens but he would not know it from Arya’s enthusiasm.

“I cannot wait for you to meet Jon,” Arya said quickly.

“I look forward to it,” Aegon lied.

She scowled at him a little and Aegon tried to avoid her gaze. She always seemed to know. He struggled to appear calm as she rang the doorbell and he put on his best winning smile. The man who opened the door had Arya’s look, the long face, dark hair and dark eyes. He caught Arya around the waist and swept her off her feet as she shrieked in mock outrage.

“You have cut your hair little sister,” her brother observed as he put her down.

“You cannot muss it so much now,” Arya said grinning.

Aegon felt almost invisible as Jon Snow proved that short hair was not an obstacle and Arya put up a not very convincing fight. Arya peered at Aegon through the hair covering her face as other footsteps approached.

“This is Jon,” she offered.

The introduction was not necessary. Aegon extended his hand to Jon. The other man studied him for a heartbeat with a gaze which felt eerily familiar before clasping the offered hand.

“Arya speaks well of you Aegon.”

The smile seemed genuine and Aegon smiled back. Perhaps Arya was right after all. He heard somebody clear their throat and turned to greet the rest of the Starks. Arya’s mother offered a smile but her father did not. Ned Stark looked almost white and his lips were pursed in a solemn, disapproving line.

“Jon, will you wait inside?”

Arya made a noise of protest as her favourite brother did as their father asked. Aegon did not need to hear any more to know Arya was wrong. It did matter. It mattered a lot.

*

Aegon barely said a word after they left her childhood home. Arya knew why. People liked Aegon. He made friends easily and did not understand anything different, even when he sometimes acted stupid and deserved disapproval. He sulked now, his purple eyes narrowed with disappointment.

_I am disappointed too._

She wanted to say it but then he might say he warned her. Arya did not understand it. Her father taught her to judge people by their deeds. Aerys might have done things and Rhaegar too but that all happened when Aegon was a baby. She reached out to touch him as they walked to his apartment.

“It is stupid. It is not like father to be unfair.”

Aegon grunted. He still flashed her a little smile as her hand brushed his shoulder but it did not stop her feeling bad. He retrieved his keys and let her go in before him.

“I thought you might want to stay with them,” he said stiffly.

“My things are here,” she explained. “I’ll go see them again in a little bit.

“Oh,” he sounded even more deflated.

Arya kicked her shoes off, chewing her lip as she wandered into the bedroom. She frowned down at her clothes, things she never would have chosen to wear. The skirt wasn’t her and the blouse even worse and the effort to look like what people expect a Stark to look like gained her nothing. She saw Aegon watching her from the doorway.

_I have to make him see they will accept him, I have to otherwise…_

“Do you still want me?”

Aegon’s eyes widened and he shook his head and for a moment Arya thought he meant no but that wasn’t right, not with the way his mouth dropped open and he stepped towards her. He reminded her a little of Jon earlier with the way he caught her around the waist and her feet left the ground for a moment. They were built the same even if their colouring was all different.

“Now you’re the one being stupid,” he scolded her as he held her to his chest.

Arya lifted her head and rose to press a kiss to his cheek. She pulled free and he sighed.

“Your father won’t want you with me, he made that clear.”

Arya bit her lip again. Aegon did not need to be sad.

“I choose my friends and I won’t give you up. There is no reason.”

She began undoing her blouse, annoyed all over again when one of the buttons almost broke away in her hand.

“Friendship is not the problem,” Aegon muttered.

Arya sighed.  “They need to realise I’m not a little girl anymore.”

Aegon did not answer her. She shrugged out of the blouse and discarded it, searching for the t-shirt she knew she left by the bed. Aegon dangled it from his hand but did not look willing to part with it. He was staring at the uncomfortable lacy bra the sales lady insisted went with the blouse.

“Definitely not a little girl,” he agreed.

Arya grinned at him, knowing what that look meant.

“It is itchy,” she confided to him as she reached out and untucked his shirt. “I’ve been counting down to take it off and the matching panties are even worse.”

Aegon never needed much encouragement but even so his enthusiasm made her laugh. One of his buttons did fly off as he ripped the shirt off even though they were not at all flimsy like the ones on her blouse.

“Today is getting better,” he said with a crooked smile as Arya stepped in close and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He just held her for a moment and it was nice. It felt even nicer when his hand brushed over her skin on the way to unzipping her skirt. She looked up at him as it dropped to her feet. His smile was gone but so was the sadness as his fingers brushed over the lace trim of her panties. His kiss took her breath away and his thumb nudging the side of her breast had her fumbling with the hooks of the bra to get rid of it, not just because it was uncomfortable.

“Pretty,” he murmured as it fell away.

Arya did not look at him to see if he meant the bra as she undid his belt. His lips moved to her neck and she tilted her head in response, closing her eyes and going by feel to find the button on his pants. He breathed in sharply when she missed and her hand brushed his cock instead.

“You are making this harder,” she pointed out.

His teeth grazed her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

“ _You_ are making it harder.”

Arya laughed, her hands rising to cup his face and pull him into another kiss. It was a quick one and a little awkward as Aegon tried to unbutton his pants mid kiss. Arya paused, her fingers at his chest as the zipper gave way. She reached to ruffle his hair when he stood before her in only his boxers and he raised his eyes only as far as her chest, his finger gently tracing her nipple as he looked at her as though he hadn’t seen her countless times before.

“You always act like it is the first time.”

He looked up at her face with an endearing grin.

“It is better than the first time.”

He cupped her breast and hooked the fingers of his other hand in her underwear and Arya had to agree as she pushed them down and off and gave up his caresses to lead him to the bed. They both smelled like fish the first time, they were in a cabin on a boat and Aegon’s godfather barked on the other side of the door before they were even done that “Aegon was not in Braavos to be sleeping with strange women.”

“You smell better now,” she told him.

He discarded the boxers before joining her and giving her a pointed look.

“So do you.”

The remark did not bother her as he ran his fingers through her hair, his weight only kept off her by propping on one elbow.

“Your godfather still thinks I’m strange.”

His hand found her hip, his thigh pressing between hers and Arya gasped and held him closer as the friction made her want more, even as she anticipated his teasing response.

“You are strange. I happen to like strange.”

He thwarted her retort with a kiss, one she gladly accepted from him. Aegon never had much patience and she had to shift beneath him when his cock pressed against her hip, catching his hand in hers and urging him to touch her. His eyes met hers, darkened and serious now and Arya let go of his hand to touch his face as his fingers traced a path over her shoulder and past her breast, continuing to her waist and back to her hip.

“I expected his shouting to scare you away.”

Arya brushed her thumb over his jaw.

“I don’t scare easy. Anyway, you were too good with your hands.”

He smiled and his thumb stroked the inside of her hip, making her pulse quicken. Aegon had long, graceful fingers, those of a musician even though he claimed he could not play any tune. He played her well enough and Arya shifted her hips in anticipation. His lips brushed hers again and then his thumb pressed at her clit and Arya moaned. His head dipped to her breast and her blood felt like it burned as he caught her nipple with his tongue and began to suck.

Her legs parted to let him touch her more easily and her fingers dug into his back and this wasn’t why she would not part with him, there were so many other reasons but this one definitely helped. He raised his head and grinned when she arched her back, choking out his name even as she fiercely bit her lip and Arya hooked her leg around him and grasped his cock in her hand as he brought his fingers to his mouth.

“Now,” she told him.

Aegon grunted softly at her touch and she might have teased him except now shelacked patience. He shifted over her, pressing into her and his head dropped to her neck as she held him close again. He gripped her thigh, his breath shortening as he pushed into her and everything felt perfect. She listened to the sound of skin against skin, felt his chest brushing hers and his gasp and little groan as he thrust again and she angled her hips to meet him and a sound burst from her own lips.

They had a rhythm of their own, one Arya knew well now and when he raised his head she turned her own to urge him to kiss her. He did not need urging. He kissed her as he pressed deeper and Arya caught his hair in her fingers as she rested her palm at the back of his neck. His eyelashes fluttered and he groaned a little louder and Arya trembled beneath him and tried to bring him even closer even though were as close as two people could ever be..

His lips were at her neck when she cried out and he came only a few heartbeats later. They lay together, tangled limbs and warmth and lingering comfort. Aegon smiled at her.

“I like you smiling,” she told him.

He caught her hand and pressed his lips to her palm.

“If you managed to endure my godfather I can find a way to convince your father.”

Arya snuggled closer to him.

“We’ll convince him together.”


	4. Inspired

Arya knocked at her neighbour’s door. She heard music playing inside and he did not answer straight away. She was about to knock again when the door opened part way. Aegon looked a little flustered and more than a little disheveled.

“I’m baking,” she explained.

He grinned. “Let me guess, you need to borrow something?”

Arya nodded. “I don’t have enough sugar. I’d like a lemon too if you have one spare.”

The door opened wide and Arya stepped through. He shut it behind her and she glanced around the apartment. Aegon strode past her to the kitchen. Arya hesitated a moment before following.

“I assume you will repay me,” he teased as cupboard doors opened and closed.

“I’m making lemon cakes to take to my parent’s house. I’ll bring you a couple when I’m done.”

He set a lemon down on the bench in front of her. Arya picked it up and a little blue smudged from the lemon onto her finger.

“I’ve been painting,” Aegon said in what sounded like an oddly defensive voice.

“I can tell,” Arya grinned. “You have some in your hair.” He raised his hand and Arya stepped forward, using her stained finger to touch where the blue streaked through the silver. “It is still less blue than it used to be.”

He laughed at that,

“I suppose that is true.”

She turned away as he began retrieving the sugar and walked back into the living area.

“Can I see it?”

He dropped something and she heard his footsteps quicken behind her.

“It isn’t ready yet.”

Arya pulled the sheet off the easel and gasped. The dragon looked as though it might fly off the canvas. Its eyes seemed molten, the half folded wings had so much detail and the teeth- Arya extended her finger to touch and almost expected them to cut her. She spun to face him.

“It is wonderful.”

Aegon looked relieved.

“Yeah that one only needs some touches on the background.”

Arya eyed his smock and the grey and blue smudges. The painting of the dragon used mostly green and red and gold and black.

“You have another one?”

She darted away, ignoring his protest and found it tucked away in the corner, almost hidden. She froze when he saw what he had done.

“It’s me,” she whispered.

She felt Aegon’s hand on her arm but only for a second.

“I did not mean for you to see,” he said in a worried voice.

He made her look beautiful. In the portrait she smiled even as she bit her bottom lip and her hand tucked loose, messy hair behind her ear. Arya mimicked the gesture now. Aegon touched her again, trying to pull her away from it and Arya shook him off. She almost touched the canvas but it was still wet.

“I don’t look like that.”

He had the long face right and the hair was the right colour and the dark grey of her eyes but she seemed more alive, more vibrant and the smile wasn’t horsey and the brown of her hair wasn’t mousy. Arya looked beside the easel and saw the photo, the one of her between him and Jon with their friends in the background because his apartment was bigger and the globe had blown in her living room and she didn’t have a spare and so he let them use his place.

“You look like that to me,” he whispered.

She whirled to face him and did not know whether to hit him or hug him because he _knew_ , he knew she wasn’t beautiful because he had seen Sansa and Sansa was the beautiful sister and Arya said as much to him. She didn’t hit him because he looked afraid and that was just stupid because Aegon wasn’t frightened of anything.

“Don’t go,” he blurted.

Arya stared at him. He stepped closer and studied her with those absurdly purple eyes and Arya thought back to how often he seemed to be at her door now and how Jon teased her about it and Arya hit Jon for it and said it didn’t mean  _anything_ and now she guessed it did.

“Do you hate it?” he asked.

Arya shook her head and took a step forward and touched his cheek where a tiny smudge of grey was just visible. Aegon blinked and then he cupped her face and Arya let him even though it would probably mean more paint smudges but she did not care about that, not when his lips brushed hers. She looked at him when they parted.

“I don’t know why you work for your family business when you can paint like that.”

He took her hand and turned to study the painting, the two of them standing side by side.

“It is what I’ve been raised to do. I do think this one is my best so far though.”

Arya looked at it again, the way he had captured the little details in her face and the gestures she did without thinking.

“Why?”

Aegon squeezed her hand.

“You inspire me.”


	5. Burning

There was a time when Arya did not wear heels or makeup. There was a time when she never would have wanted to wear a dress like the one she wore now. She still wasn’t sure about it but it was right for the performance, it was right for the character she needed to be. She ran her hands over the fabric, adjusting the straps a little and she put on a smile when Aegon caught her eye.

“I thought you were wearing the black one,” he said.

He was staring a little and Arya bit her lip. The old insecurities crept back and she blinked quickly and took a breath, worrying that she was too skinny, too plain to wear a dress like this. It covered much less of her than the black one and she worried now that it might be a mistake. Aegon was still looking at her.

“Should I change?” she asked.

“No,” he answered quickly.

He said it very quickly and he reddened. Aegon never reddened like that, not unless she teased him about his girlfriends. He hadn’t had one for a while now that she thought about it, not since just after her breakup and that was months ago. He drew closer and his hands rested on her shoulders and Arya suddenly felt warm.

_The lights are too much._

“You look ready to tango,” Aegon said lightly. “The red suits you.”

Arya looked at herself in the mirror. She never would have worn anything like it before but she was a dancer now. Once she was clumsy, underfoot, Arya Horseface but now Arya was graceful. Everybody said so. They had said so for years now. Dancing made her graceful and dancing let her escape. With dancing she could pretend, pretend to be somewhere else, to be someone else.

_It is a dress made for dancing._

“Why are you still looking?” she asked. “Is there something wrong?”

Aegon’s gaze had dropped to the slit in the skirt.

“I suppose that makes it easier to walk.”

Arya felt her own cheeks redden.

“It does.”

He took her hand just as she was about to tell him to stop being stupid. It was time. They had practised for so long. She only had to close her eyes and she could count the steps in her head. The routine was committed to memory. She walked with Aegon, trying to look confident as they stepped out onto the floor in front of the audience. Arya heard a whistle she felt certain was Jon.

“All will go well if you don’t step on my foot,” Aegon murmured.

Arya scowled at him. He always said that just before they danced and they had danced together for years now. It had been years since she had stepped on his feet and he knew it. She could tell by his grin and she wanted to hit him but now was not the time.

“You should be more worried about me kicking you,” she muttered.

He grinned and guided her into position to begin. Arya spun on her foot and let him pull her close. For a few heartbeats they were still, waiting for the music. Arya felt very aware of her breath, of Aegon’s hand on the bare skin of her back. His palm felt a little sweaty and it startled Arya to think he might be nervous. He was never nervous.

“Remember we’re meant to be lovers,” she whispered. “It helps to think of who we’re meant to be.”

She didn’t know whether her advice would help him as much as it helped her but he seemed to take it. At the first strains of music his hand tightened against her back and as he shifted his weight, they became almost as close as true lovers, her chest pressed to his and their hips joined in a way that might be sinful were they not clothed.

Arya breathed and they stepped together to the beat of the song. She forgot the people watching and the other couples and thought only of her partner. She often gave herself another name, lost herself in a way but Aegon did not let her this time. He whispered her name in her ear, Arya, as he embraced her and lifted her from the ground and Arya felt as though she flew for a heartbeat. She never felt afraid. He never let her fall and then they were pressed together again.

He did not look at her and she did not look at him as they swept across the floor. It felt freeing even though he led her. The dance required that they did not look at one another often but when they did, his gaze burned into her. He held her closer than before, it seemed closer than before but Arya thought she must be imagining it.

Arya hooked her leg around his thigh and she told herself she held him the way they did when they practiced but it did not feel the same. Her pulse did not race like this and she did not feel a surge from his touch the way she did now. His hand seemed higher on her leg, almost a caress as he slid it inside the slit in the dress to pull her across the floor and then she spun away, spinning back to have him clutch her to him as though he were desperate to keep her. His breath against her chest as he dipped her made her own breath catch.

Arya told herself the passion was part of the act. She told herself it was only pretend but it was easier to pretend than ever before. When Aegon pulled her into him, she wanted to touch him and when she slid down, looking up at him from an almost split on the floor his gaze seemed intense and his lips were parted as though she truly were seducing him.

They were meant to pretend to kiss at the end. They had laughed about it before. Arya did not feel like laughing now. The light shone on them as Aegon pulled her back up and Arya moved into his frame, then they were turning again, turning and gliding across the floor and it was almost time as she hooked her leg around his knee and Aegon gazed as her once more, their foreheads almost touching.

_It is almost over._

Arya did not want it to be over. She spun away from him, only an arm length away, knowing it would end when she spun back into his embrace. She blinked into the lights and turned on her heel, counting once more in her head as she threw herself back into his arms. Her hands went to his face the way they were supposed to and Aegon leaned down the way they practiced and the music stopped with their lips a whisker apart.

“You are perfect,” Aegon whispered, his breathing heavy and his eyes looking dark.

“I’m not,” Arya whispered back remembering two steps she mistimed. It hardly seemed to matter right then, especially when the lights went out over their heads.

She knew she kissed him because one moment she wondered what it might be like and the next she knew what it was like and before she could be embarrassed at throwing herself at him and pull away Aegon was kissing her back. He tasted like mint and his familiar hands were not so familiar as he slid one up her bare back and the other moved much closer to her ass than it was in their final pose. The darkness did not give them long, not nearly long enough and Arya resisted the urge to kiss him again, opening her eyes and blinking as the lights came back on and she became aware of the applause.

“Do you think we placed,” she asked against his lips.

Aegon did not let go of her.

“I think I might have won,” he said, his eyes searching her face.

“Are you pretending,” she asked him, almost afraid of the answer.

“I’ve not been pretending for a long time.”

She heard Jon whistling and stepped back, just two steps. Aegon frowned until she took his hand in hers.

“I wasn’t pretending either,” she admitted.

His smile almost blinded her and she suspected that by the way he moved closer, the way he barely looked away from her when they acknowledged the judges that he wanted more. She smiled easily, the way everybody expected her to as they left the floor. Arya waved in the direction of her family, blowing a kiss to her father.

Away from the dance floor she kept hold of Aegon’s hand, leading him behind her. He always led on the dance floor but now it was her turn as she took him into the dressing room and closed the door behind them. Another two steps and they were pressed together again, as close as when they danced but an altogether different kind of dance as Arya buried her hands in his hair while she kissed him and Aegon’s hand slid inside the slit in her skirt once more.

The heat from his touch felt right and then Arya knew.

_I don’t want to be anybody else._


End file.
